Expectations Past
by Historybuff
Summary: After a brief encounter with Pip, Estella reflects over all that has happened in her life within the past eleven years. Loosely based on Dicken's original ending.
1. Chapter 1

**_Chapter 1_**

Poised on the edge of her seat and turning her attention away from the pony's reins she clutched within her hands, Estella fixed her somber gaze upon the melancholy features she had known since childhood. Staring sadly at the gentleman for a brief moment, she attempted to turn her attention to the boy standing adjacent to him.

"I am greatly changed, I know; but I thought you would like to shake hands with Estella too, Pip. Lift up that child and let me kiss it!" she pronounced with feigned cheerfulness. The elder Pip gently lifted his companion to reach Estella's kiss. Scrutinizing the child's comely features, she could not help but wonder if perhaps the child were his. Certainly he must have been. The similarities were irrefutable.

"You have much changed, Estella," the elder Pip said quietly, his gaze still fixed upon her as he placed the child next to him.

"I have aged," she corrected calmly, a slight grin forming over her lips. "But make no mistake, Pip. I am not unhappy." At this, she gently pulled a bundle of blankets towards her with a certain degree of subtlety. "Admittedly, I have surpassed my youth. However, I hope you are not under the false impression that this has brought me any sort of grief." Though her eyes were turned towards the bundle at her side, she could feel Pip's dissatisfied gaze lingering upon her. Surely he must have been pondering over her words with skepticism.

"I have heard many stories," he began hesitantly. "Regarding the past eleven years. It pains me to hear them."

Her eyes immediately shifted from the blankets. "You have no reason to feel any pain, Pip. It is true. I have been plagued with much sorrow. But I may also declare with perfect honesty that, in my current state, I have no reason to be unhappy." Her words echoed with a composed level of forcefulness that Pip clearly did not wish to contradict.

"Well," he began quietly, staring down at his boots. "I suppose you must be correct. I have heard that you have remarried. Two years ago, I believe, to a Shropshire doctor. Am I not correct in believing this gossip?"

Estella's mellow expression immediately transformed into perplexed frown. "A Shropshire doctor? How very strange."

Pip's expression quickly mirrored her own. "Then it is not true?" There was a certain tone of excitement in his voice, which Estella did not altogether like.

"No. I'm afraid you have become the victim of idle, erroneous gossip, my dear Pip."

Pip attempted to shrug nonchalantly. "Then… you are not married?"

His expression conveyed a suppressed hopefulness that Estella felt somewhat guilty to destroy. However, she could not prolong the inevitable. "There you are incorrect, Sir. I remarried two years ago. However, it was not to a doctor from Shropshire."

Pip's eyes returned to his boots. "I see," he murmured, attempting to conceal his disappointment. "And might I ask… who now has the honor of calling you his wife?"

"Am I to assume," she began, avoiding his inquiry. "That you do not travel to London very often?"

"Hardly ever," he replied quickly. "I have not had the opportunity to see my old London acquaintances for several years. I don't know if you have heard anything regarding my own history-"

"I have not," she interposed.

"I have been working in a clerical position, alongside Herbert Pocket. We travel constantly, which is the reason why I have not been a visitor of London for these several years past."

"Ah," she mumbled, nodding her head pensively. "That would explain it then."

"What does it explain?" Pip inquired.

"Never mind," she quickly responded, grasping the reins. "I will delay you no longer, Pip. I am very pleased to see you. It has been too long since our last meeting."

Pip's cheeks flushed with the remembrance of their last interaction. "Yes, it has. And I regret to say that it's very likely we will not see one another for many years henceforth."

"You are most likely correct," she said, not quite as pained by this idea as Pip would have hoped. "Until then, my friend," she said with a warm smile, offering her gloved hand to him. He took it within his own slowly, placing a soft kiss upon it before reluctantly stepping away from her small carriage.

"Good day, Estella," he muttered.

"Good-bye, Pip." Before another word was spoken, she tapped the pony lightly with the reins and journeyed forth, refusing to glance back at her former companion.

The pony moved at a steady, listless trot. Once again, she embraced the small bundle beside her, absentmindedly weaving the reins through her fingers.

Traveling at this current speed, she would most likely have much time to gather her thoughts, reflecting over what exactly had happened those eleven years past…


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2_**

Estella Havisham, a refined beauty of three-and-twenty years, sat on a plush cushion at the feet of her adopted mother in the room where the dressing-table stood and where the candles burned on the wall. Her fingers twisted with perfect agility around her knitting needles. She looked upon her work with perfect composure, the deception of her cool expression concealing her inner sentiments of apprehension.

Miss Havisham stroked her soft brown hair, staring at the young lady fondly, deep in thought. Feeling the elderly woman's eyes upon her, Estella's uneasiness became progressively more apparent. Eventually, Miss Havisham took notice of this and resituated herself on her settee near the fire.

"You do not like it when I stroke your head?" the elder lady cried in dismay.

"No!" Estella quickly interjected, only briefly glancing up from her knitting. "I quite like it. Please, continue."

Though not entirely convinced of her daughter's sincerity, Miss Havisham continued to fondle the young lady's abundance of wavy locks. Eventually, she reached towards her dressing table and lifted a jeweled headpiece, placing it in Estella's hair. Estella feigned indifference, focusing her concentration on her job at hand. "You are to be married tomorrow," Miss Havisham murmured slowly, as though she believed the news would shock Estella.

Estella did not glance up from her work. "Yes," she whispered at last.

"And Mr. Drummle…" Miss Havisham's words trailed off, a distorted, nearly malicious smile forming upon her face. "Mr. Drummle… will love you." Estella suppressed the urge to shudder as these last three words reached her ears. It seemed that Miss Havisham viewed Mr. Drummle's affections as a sort of punishment for him. "You are to wear… this…" Miss Havisham reached once more towards the dressing table and lifted a necklace. "You are to wear this tomorrow…" Estella's initial apathetic glance was immediately followed by a double take of astonishment.

"How could I wear it?" Estella asked, controlling her tone.

"I was to wear it… on my wedding day…" It did not seem to Estella that Miss Havisham was speaking to her. As she ran her withered fingers over the pearls, her eyes filled with tears. "But now you are to wear it," she murmured.

Estella could not deny the urge to glance once more at the necklace, which, in all her years at Satis House, had never once been removed from Miss Havisham's archaic dressing table. The longer Miss Havisham caressed the pearls, the brighter they gleamed under the light of the fire. Clearing her throat, Estella began to knit with unprecedented vehemence.

Her work was suddenly interrupted by the icy sensation of the once-neglected pearls encircling her throat. Her hand quickly abandoned the knitting needle, grasping at the jewels as though she feared the priceless items would be used to her detriment.

"Let me look at you," Miss Havisham demanded, forcefully turning the young lady towards her. She stared at Estella with bitter satisfaction. "You will break his heart," she whispered.

"I should fear that he might return the damage," Estella muttered quickly. "That is, if I possessed a heart that might be broken."

At this, Miss Havisham smiled. "Break his heart, my dear. Now stand. Stand!" Estella promptly did as she was directed. "Now…" said Miss Havisham, gesturing towards the mirror. "See the jewels for yourself. Tell me now that you can't wear them."

Estella stared into the mirror, her eyes quickly surveying the jewels before slowly lifting to see her own dismal expression. Did she have a justifiable reason to feel this strong sense of apprehension? Was there something so terribly wrong about the prospect of becoming Mrs. Bentley Drummle? Perhaps Pip had more sense than she had originally believed. Perhaps this Mr. Drummle was an absolute scoundrel. After all, Pip had more occasions to see Mr. Drummle's darker side than she ever would have had. She certainly did not feel remorseful in regards to her last meeting with Pip. She stood by the fact that never, under any circumstance, had she given Pip reason to believe that she reciprocated his affections. She never did nor ever could feel that sort of passionate love for anyone, least of all for Pip. Least of all…

Her thoughts were suddenly distracted by the dark silhouette lingering directly outside of the room. As the figure took a step towards them, making his presence known, Estella glanced at Miss Havisham, whose expression immediately turned to one of anxiety.

"I came as quickly as I could, Miss Havisham," Mr. Jaggers announced, taking several steps towards them. "I was engaged with a case at the time when your note arrived and thus could not detach myself from Little Britain. But, as I am now here, would you be so good as to explain why I have been so urgently called here?"

"I have asked you here to assist me with some very crucial legal proceedings," Miss Havisham replied.

"Yes, that seemed rather obvious. But with what particular legal proceedings am I to assist you?"

At this, Miss Havisham fixed her eyes once more on Estella. "Estella is to be married tomorrow."

For the first time since his arrival, Mr. Jaggers turned his attention from Miss Havisham to the younger lady, who slowly crossed back to the cushion where she had previously sat. His gaze upon her was very brief. Giving Estella the minimum attention that was called for under the circumstance, he immediately fixed his eyes on his boots, swaying forwards and backwards, his hands clasped behind him.

"So I have heard," he replied at last with an air of indifference. "And is this the urgent legal matter to which I must attend?" This was said with a degree of reproach.

Miss Havisham's eyes widened fretfully. "No, Mr. Jaggers! Certainly not. Although, in a way, it would be. You see, I want to assure that, once Estella is married, her fortune will remain within her own hands."

"You are referring to what will become of your fortune after your inevitable death, are you not?" he asked coolly. At this, Estella turned her eyes from her knitting needles to his face and then directly to the face of Miss Havisham, her eyes conveying an expression of shock.

"Yes, Mr. Jaggers. I am indeed referring to my _inevitable_ death," Miss Havisham replied, oblivious to Estella's anxious expression.

"You couldn't possibly mean-" Estella started before immediately checking herself. An uncomfortable silence pursued.

"That's not to say that your death is eminent," Mr. Jaggers explained, indirectly assuaging Estella as he spoke to Miss Havisham. "You'll have to forgive me, Miss Havisham. As a member of the Court, I have grown accustomed to speaking of such matters with perfect candor." Estella glanced up at him as he said this. To her, it was apparent that nothing about his expression or tone conveyed any sort of repentance.

Miss Havisham was not nearly as offended by his tactlessness as Estella had been. "Certainly…" she mumbled, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. "But you will take care of this legal matter, won't you, Mr. Jaggers?"

"Of course I will. Think no more of it," he said, waving his hand for emphasis. "Your fortune is to go directly into the hands of Mrs. Bentley Drummle…" He crossed to a small table in the corner of the room and placed a sheet of paper upon it. He glanced around for a moment, puzzled. "Might I have a pen?" At this, Miss Havisham promptly took a pen and inkwell from her dressing table and handed the items to Estella, who stood and crossed to him, her hands stretched forth. "Ah. Thank you," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the paper as he reached for the items. Suddenly, his eyes lifted, evidently transfixed on the pearls that hung about Estella's throat. Estella watched with curiosity as his eyes lingered upon the jewels for the brief moment before he recollected himself. Placing the pen and inkwell upon the small table, he once more became focused on the legal business before him.

Estella returned to her place at Miss Havisham's feet, gently wrapping her finger around the pearls of the necklace. Obviously she had not been the only one in the past to notice this precious family relic, which had been withering away in a state of atrophy for nearly thirty years.

After several minutes of intense scribbling, Mr. Jaggers straightened himself and crossed towards the ladies. "I will have Mr. Wemmick take care of this tomorrow morning," he announced, brandishing the paper in the air as he spoke.

"Make haste, Mr. Jaggers," Miss Havisham demanded. "By this time tomorrow, she will be married."

"Yes, of course," he said calmly, giving Estella a slight glance before edging towards the door. "If that is all, I shall take my leave of you, Miss Havisham."

"That is all. Good evening, Mr. Jaggers," Miss Havisham said.

"Good evening," he said cordially, turning towards the door.

"Good bye, Mr. Jaggers. I probably won't see you very often once I have left Satis House," Estella said, curious to see what sort of response she would receive.

After a moment of hesitation, Mr. Jaggers reluctantly turned from the door towards them. "Yes, of course," he began, choosing his words carefully as he fixed his gaze upon the ceiling. "I… certainly wish you the best of fortune, young lady. Farewell." Giving them a brief bow, he immediately took the opportunity to abandon the room without further ado.

Estella could not suppress a slight scoff. To her surprise, this did not go undetected by Miss Havisham. "What is it, Estella?" she asked curiously.

Estella glanced up, checking herself. "Oh, nothing. It's only… I think it rather amusing that, after all these years, the only words your highly-esteemed attorney could find for me were, 'I wish you the best of fortune' and 'farewell'."

She glanced up to Miss Havisham with a good-natured smile. Miss Havisham did not seem to be listening. Rather, it seemed that her attention was wholly captivated by the string of pearls that dangled from Estella's throat.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

Mrs. Bentley Drummle spent the first several weeks of her marriage growing accustomed to her new lifestyle as the bride of such a commendable young member of England's nobility. These weeks passed in comparatively pleasant marital bliss and eventually, before Mrs. Bentley Drummle had a moment to collect her personal thoughts, nearly two months had passed. It was during this period of time that Estella was informed that her adopted mother had suffered from a very unexpected accident and, at length, had died.

With perceptible reluctance, Mr. Drummle accompanied his wife to Satis House, where they were to attend Miss Havisham's wake and funeral. Their visit was very brief, as Estella had very little desire to converse with any of the mourners in attendance, which primarily consisted of many covetous members of the Pocket family. After the funeral had ended, the funeral attendants were requested to travel into Little Britain, where Miss Havisham's attorney was to deliver the contents of her will.

Due to Mr. Drummle's indolent manner, Estella made a late arrival at Miss Havisham's funeral. However, when her husband discovered that there was to be a distribution of Miss Havisham's wealth directly after the funeral proceedings, he traveled with considerably greater enthusiasm towards the legal office of Mr. Jaggers.

As they entered the office, the Drummles were immediately greeted by a certain Mr. Wemmick, who spoke to them with suppressed civility. "Good day. How may I be of service to you?" he inquired.

"I am Mr. Bentley Drummle, sir," Mr. Drummle announced with a certain degree of ostentation. "This is my wife, the late Miss Havisham's daughter by adoption. You know the name, I presume? Miss Havisham of Satis House."

Mr. Wemmick turned towards Estella with great interest, immediately attempting to conceal the excitement he must have felt, meeting the long spoken-of Estella Havisham for the first time in his life. "Mrs. Drummle. Of course," he began, turning his face away for a moment to collect himself. "I have heard much of you."

"From whom?" Estella asked, puzzled.

"Why, Mr. Jaggers, of course." Estella made an ill-fated attempt to conceal her scoff. Mr. Wemmick eyed her curiously. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Drummle. Do you think me insincere?"

"I wouldn't dream of thinking so, Mr. Wemmick," she replied coolly. "I… wouldn't have thought Mr. Jaggers would have had the occasion to speak of me to anyone. That is all."

Wemmick's eyes shifted to the floor, a disconcerted expression (which, Estella thought, seemed to convey some form of guilt) passing over his features, only to be instantaneously repressed. An expression that much resembled that of Mr. Wemmick's employer, Estella observed. She had always believed that Miss Havisham's attorney had simply been an odd sort of fellow, but now Estella began to wonder if perhaps this awkwardness was to be found in every member of the London Court.

"Well," Wemmick began, regaining his air of composed indifference. "Mr. Jaggers is currently working on a case. He is due to arrive from Court at any moment. Several of Miss Havisham's relatives have already arrived and are currently waiting in his office. If you would like, you are certainly welcome to join them."

"Thank you, Mr. Wemmick," Estella said. "And where might we find this office?"

"Ah. Follow me," Wemmick muttered, stepping in front of them and leading them towards Mr. Jaggers' office, where they found several eager members of the Pocket family.

Though Estella was by no means pleased to see these distant relations, she forced a calm grin upon her face as she approached them, her husband loitering near the fireplace. "Miss Pocket," she whispered quietly, crossing to Sarah Pocket. "Mrs. Camilla," she continued, turning from Sarah Pocket to the other relation. "How good it is to see you."

"Yes. It's just so very terrible that we must meet under such dismal circumstances," Mrs. Camilla cried, her words muffled by a large, tear-soaked handkerchief. "Oh! I wonder when that attorney will arrive. I will certainly grow ill waiting! Not that… Not that I'm at all interested in our dear Miss Havisham's will. It's only that… I'd like to return home. So that I might go to bed. I have been in such a state ever since I heard the horrible news! I declare, I wasn't able to leave my bed for three days after I heard of it."

"Of course," Estella muttered consolingly. Sarah Pocket lifted her eyes to meet Estella's and the latter wondered if perhaps the former had caught the subtle hint of mockery in her tone. Of all her 'well-meaning' relatives, Estella found Mrs. Camilla to be by far the most insufferable. However, she would never have wished to let anyone know of this. After all, that would have been very uncouth, no matter how much satisfaction it might have given Estella.

"Mrs. Drummle," her husband called quietly. Estella glanced up to see him signaling for her to come closer. She obliged, wondering what could possibly have captivated his interest so very much.

"Yes?" she whispered.

"What do you make of this?" he asked quietly, directing her attention to several casts that sat on the shelf above them. Estella stared for a moment with morbid curiosity.

"They're positively dreadful," she muttered. "What would possess anyone to proudly display such grotesque vulgarities? One would think Mr. Jaggers was proud of them."

"He most likely would be proud," Mr. Drummle mumbled.

"What?" she asked, keeping her voice at a steady, low pitch. "How could you suggest it? Proud of these death masks?"

"You've said yourself that he's a strange sort of person," Drummle explained impatiently.

"Strange, indeed!" she replied. "Positively morose, I should think."

"Quiet," he ordered softly, turning his attention towards the door. "I think I heard footsteps. Yes! I have. It must be he."

As Mr. Drummle finished speaking, the door opened and Mr. Jaggers entered. He turned to the group of mourners (all of whom scrutinized him), a certain degree of irritable reluctance conveyed in his countenance as he crossed towards his desk, refusing to acknowledge any of the onlookers until he had properly situated himself in his high-backed chair. He lifted a stack of papers from the corner of his desk and methodically fingered through them, silently muttering to himself as he did so, until he came across one particular item that was of interest to him. The room remained chillingly silent as he perused the document, still acting as though he were alone in the small office.

Several moments passed before Estella chose to abandon her spot near the fireplace. Slowly crossing towards him, she passed her eyes over each member of Miss Havisham's avaricious family. Finally, she allowed her eyes to focus on Mr. Jaggers, who just happened to glance up at the exact same moment.

"Well," he began, immediately shifting his eyes from Estella to the nearby Sarah Pocket. "I see you're all here. You must have adored Miss Havisham very much indeed to be willing to travel all the way from Satis House to London. And for what? Just to assure that the dear old woman's earthly possessions were properly distributed. How very loving and selfless you all have proven to be."

"We care nothing for her fortune, Mr. Jaggers!" Sarah Pocket retorted defensively, her complexion lightened with various shades of green and yellow. "We simply wish to assure that our dear late relative's… earthly possessions, as you call them… are taken care of. She would wish it of us!"

"I have no doubt that your intentions are of the _purest _nature," Mr. Jaggers replied calmly, a slight smirk forming in the corner of his mouth.

"You can't imagine how I feel, Mr. Jaggers!" Mrs. Camilla exclaimed, fanning herself with her handkerchief as her husband grasped at her arm for support. "I didn't leave my bed once for a whole day after I heard the terrible news!"

"I thought it was three days," he stated, leaning back in his chair, biting at his forefinger with visible amusement.

"Oh," Mrs. Camilla muttered, her brows furrowing as she worked herself up into a frenzy. "Well… Yes- Yes! Three days! That was it! Tell them, my husband! Tell Mr. Jaggers how very distraught I became!"

"It was three days, sir," her husband quickly echoed.

"Three days! And I could hardly eat! I couldn't drink! All I could do was weep!"

"Yes, I'm sure you were _quite_ the ardent sufferer," Mr. Jaggers replied with blatant mockery. Estella turned her face towards the opposite wall, attempting to ignore the urge to mirror Mr. Jaggers' cruel smirk. "Now… As painful as I'm sure it will be for all of you, I fear I must commence with legal proceedings. I have here…" He gestured to the paper in his hand. "… The last will of your departed relation, Miss Havisham. Now… Are there any objections to my proceeding to read it?" Mr. Jaggers was immediately accosted by a sea of shaking heads. "Very well. Shall I read the entire will or shall I simply skip to the parts that interest you?"

"Oh, how I would love to here every blessed word our sweet relation wrote before her untimely demise!" Mrs. Camilla exclaimed. "But, I fear my weak countenance will not permit it. If I am not returned home shortly, I shall certainly faint! There. You see how my grief-stricken nerves torment me?"

"So should I infer that you wish me to skip over the parts that are in no way related to all of you?" Mr. Jaggers asked indifferently.

"That might be for the best," Mrs. Camilla's husband said hesitantly.

"Very well," Mr. Jaggers replied resolutely as he glanced down at the paper. "To Miss Georgiana… You have been left twenty pounds per-annium." Miss Georgiana, who had not spoken once since her arrival, silently retreated to the back of the room, a bitter grimace distorting her features. "Miss Sarah… You have been given twenty-five pounds per-annium. She specifically states that she leaves this to you on account of your being bilious." Sarah Pocket attempted to seem slighted, but was quickly silenced once Mr. Jaggers stated that she was in no way obliged to take the twenty-five pounds, if she found it to be so very offensive. "Mrs. Camilla… Oh…" He glanced up with a devious expression. "Miss Havisham was very thoughtful indeed…"

"Oh?" Mrs. Camilla mumbled, suddenly quite intrigued. Estella knew, judging by the attorney's darkened features, that Miss Camilla was about to receive a very unexpected surprise.

"Hmm… Yes, your dear relation was so very good-natured… that she left you a full… five pounds, in order that you may buy rushlights to put you in spirits when you awaken in the middle of the night. Now wasn't that kind of her? It's as though she knew the _exact_ reaction her death would have upon you."

Mrs. Camilla was unable to speak for several minutes. In fact, the entire room fell into silence. Finally, the silence was broken by Mr. Drummle, who impatiently crossed to the desk. "And what of my wife, sir?" he asked.

Mr. Jaggers glanced up from the will for a brief moment. "Hmm? Oh… Quite right. Mrs. Bentley Drummle… Well, you wouldn't be surprised to learn, sir, that your wife has inherited Miss Havisham's fortune, almost in its entirety. There's a small fortune set aside for a Matthew Pocket, but… with this exception… the fortune belongs to her." Estella could not help but notice that, as he said this, he did not once turn his attention from the paper, as he had when discussing its contents with the other relations. She took a step towards the desk.

"The fortune is in my name, Mr. Jaggers?" she asked.

Clearing his throat, he focused his attention on the stack of papers before him. "Quite right, Mrs. Drummle. It can be of no surprise to you."

"No," she said quietly.

"Well, this is just too much!" Mrs. Camilla exclaimed from the back of the office, where all of the Pockets had gathered. "I must leave! It's too much for my spirits!" And at this, Mrs. Camilla, accompanied by her husband, Sarah Pocket and Georgiana, departed from Mr. Jaggers' office in a resentful fury.

Mr. Jaggers watched them with vague satisfaction before turning his focus once more to the stack of papers. "Sir," Estella began quietly, placing her hand on the edge of his desk. "I should wonder that Miss Havisham did not leave you a small fortune."

"Me?" Mr. Jaggers repeated, his eyes only lifting enough to perceive her gloved hand. "How very absurd, Mrs. Drummle. Why would she leave anything to me?"

"Well, you were the only person she trusted with her business affairs. I should think she would have liked to compensate you for all your service."

"I assure you," Mr. Jaggers replied slowly, his gaze fixed on her hand. "I have received very generous compensation from Miss Havisham. I want for nothing in that regards."

"Yes, of course," she muttered. "Of course you have. How very ridiculous of me."

"No matter," he said quietly, standing from his chair and turning his attention to Mr. Drummle. "If you're curious about the casts I have placed on that shelf there, you might have asked. They were both very generous clients of mine. Fortunately, neither of them was saved from the hangman's noose."

"Fortunately?" Mr. Drummle repeated, bewildered.

"Well, it would be society's fortune, I suspect."

"Mr. Jaggers," Mr. Drummle began slowly. "How did you know that I was curious about the casts?"

"Why, the same way I knew that Mrs. Camilla had been bed-ridden for three days," he replied simply, leading them towards the door. Mr. Drummle and Estella exchanged curious glances before following him.

"It's quite nice to see you again, Mr. Jaggers," Mr. Drummle said with very little enthusiasm. "We must certainly meet again. I… do hope you'll forgive me for… my previous conduct. I'm sure I behaved most abominably at your dinner party."

"Dinner party?" Estella repeated, staring at him with astonishment.

"Yes," he replied hurriedly. "As I've said, we must certainly meet again. In fact, what say you to dining with me this evening?"

"Well, I suppose that would be quite fine," Mr. Jaggers replied. "You might come to my house on Gerrard Street, if you wish. Would you have any objection to my inviting Mr. Wemmick?"

"Certainly not," Mr. Drummle replied. "And… I suppose Mrs. Drummle must be invited as well." He glanced at Estella with an air of reluctance.

His eyes widened, Mr. Jaggers immediately turned his attention to his boots. "But of course. We should meet at the Inn Yard."

"Inn Yard?" Mr. Drummle repeated, perplexed. "I thought you said-"

"Yes, it suddenly came to my attention that the Inn Yard would be a much more suitable location for an evening out," Mr. Jaggers said with the utmost composure. Yet there was something in his expression that Estella did not quite trust. "We'd better go to the Inn Yard."

"Very well," Mr. Drummle agreed, still eyeing him curiously. "The Inn Yard it is, sir."

"Good," Mr. Jaggers said, swaying back and forth with his hands behind his back. "Seven-thirty."

"Until then," Mr. Drummle said, leading Estella out the door. As she left the office, Estella glanced back at its peculiar inhabitant, her attention suddenly captivated by a small water basin where he stood, fervently scrubbing his hands with a small brush. Before she could observe any more, her husband shut the door behind them.


End file.
